


What Waits in Almyra

by VeloxVoid



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Day At The Beach, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Being an Asshole, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25573108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: It's the winter after the Tragedy of Duscur, and Dimitri and Felix grieve in their different – and not entirely compatible – ways. Rodrigue decides to take them away from Fhirdiad to somewhere warmer. In Almyra, they meet a secretive and mischievous teenager who brings them both out of their shells a little.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	What Waits in Almyra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samariumwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/gifts).



> This was my fic to @samarumwriting on Twitter, who won my 100 follower giveaway! Thank you Leo for such an incredible prompt! And bonus thanks to @vulnerarie for being a fantastic beta-reader :)

Almyra was different.

Winter was supposed to be a time for cold; for flowers frozen in time with icicles hanging from their petals, a light dusting of frost atop them moved only by the howling gales that swept by every day. Grass would crunch beneath the boots of the young prince, and snow would consume his legs up to the knees. Falling flakes would melt into his hair to darken the blonde tresses, and the landscape would become a blanket of white.

Winter was for curling up in the deep, plush armchair in the heart of the castle with only the cats for company, purring their comforting monotone song. It was for feeling the fireplace’s heat effusing warmth into chilled skin, reading books by its comforting light, the snap of branches and the roar of flames drowning out the sounds of the blizzards raging outside. It was for being carried upstairs in the loving embrace of his father’s arms, for being tucked into bed with a kiss pressed gently on his forehead saying goodnight. 

Alas, King Lambert was now dead.

The Fhirdiad winter had changed in his absence, full of cold, black nights. Listening to storms curled up alone without the energy to light the fire. Even the cats practiced their version of mourning, slinking into the shadows, leaving Dimitri truly, frightfully alone. 

Once, beneath that blanket of pale white had laid promise: an untouched Kingdom, one day his, ripe for him to explore. Now, that white hid ghosts within the swirling hailstorms – the ghosts of those who had died mere weeks ago in the Tragedy of Duscur.

In Almyra, winter was different.

It was warm here, overbearingly so. Instead of a blanket of grey-black clouds, the sky was open, the sun beating down ruthlessly upon him. It taught Dimitri something he would never have learned in Faerghus.

The sun did _not_ make him feel better.

It almost felt mocking: a symbol of warmth and happiness, to frolic under and bathe in and sit on beaches sipping cold drinks beneath. Summer and the sun meant joy, and being carefree. Dimitri, under the expanse of blue sky and the beating sun, felt trapped.

Almyra’s capital, _Zibaaghar_ as the locals called it, was busy; it was a bustling city, the centre of which was rife with business and storefronts and merchants. The marketplace consisted of a long street lined with stalls, each squashed tightly together behind a myriad of customers poring over their wares. Their owners called out their products in a language unknown to Dimitri, and his head whipped back and forth as he tried to take in as much of this new city as possible. Despite arriving last night, he and his fellow Faerghans had not been able to see anything as a wave of exhaustion had washed over them; they had merely retired to their hotel, and slept.

This morning, they were assaulted with their new surroundings.

“This is so stupid,” Felix hissed through his teeth, arms crossed protectively over his chest as they meandered through the marketplace. “I hate it here.”

“You’d be doing a lot better if you agreed to come to the beach!” Rodrigue, his father, gave him a pat on the back.

Felix merely swiped at him. “Shut up!”

Of course, Rodrigue did not fully understand Felix’s fear of the beach, nor his unyielding refusal to wear any sort of bathing suit. He respected his son’s identity – how could he not, after Glenn had been the same? – but he did not quite _understand._ Dimitri knew that hot weather was abominable for his friend – wearing tight, skin-revealing clothing was a young trans man’s worst nightmare – and thus he backed Felix up.

“No, I’m not fond of the beach either.” But his voice did not hold the strong, reassuring tone he’d hoped for. Instead, it sounded weak – choked. And he sighed.

He wished Dedue were here. His best friend was strong and fearless – bold where Dimitri was meek, and protective when the prince was upset. He had not been invited on this trip – Dimitri suspected that Rodrigue was still a little wary of him – and had instead been left to stay back home with the servants of Blaiddyd.

Dedue would know what to do – how to comfort him. He had seen this all before. His father had been killed too, before his very eyes along with his mother, his siblings, his village…

Dimitri supposed he had seen nothing in comparison with Dedue. What were his losses – his father, stepmother, childhood friend Glenn – when compared to one’s entire village--? 

He had to take a breath, feeling his lungs beginning to tighten. Thinking of Glenn always hurt. His father’s absence did not feel real – not yet – but Glenn’s hit him like a collision. He should have been here, with his father and younger brother, but instead he was nowhere to be seen. The only place he still lived, aside from in memories, was… in Felix. The two looked so alike nowadays – same angular eyes, pouting lips, unruly dark hair...

It was the reminder that Glenn was here no more, and that Rodrigue had taken them here to get away from his memory, that upset Dimitri the most.

Tears spilled from his eyes in hot streaks, the rivulets drying onto his face almost immediately in the baking sun, and he let out a slow, quiet whine.

“Oh, Dimitri…” Rodrigue said upon noticing.

“Ugh!” spat Felix. “Again with this!?”

“What is it, son?” Rodrigue prompted the prince.

“It-it’s--!” Dimitri sniffled. “Glenn!”

“Ohh, I know, I know…” Rodrigue muttered.

Dimitri’s vision was a blur, the glaze of his tears clouding everything. He felt the soft warmth of Rodrigue’s hands upon his waist as he was guided through the marketplace, between the stalls, eventually taking them somewhere less crowded.

Rodrigue’s voice was layered atop the prince’s weeping. “There, there. Come on, let’s sit you down…”

And Dimitri felt a hardness beneath him – an indication that he’d been sat down upon stone. The bricks were cold despite the heat of the sun above, and the sound of running water rushed behind him. Dimitri lifted his face from the handkerchief and turned, finding a beautiful fountain towering above him; carved from marble into the fearsome shape of a wyvern, water poured from its jaws into the large basin below, the wall of which he was now perched atop.

It was beautiful – captivating. Mesmerising. A similar fountain resided in Fhirdiad’s royal gardens, a stone lion instead of a marble wyvern, and he remembered wading through it so many times in his youth. Two years ago or so, he had pulled his step-sister into it and she had scolded him, voice shrill and panicked. Her words rang in Dimitri’s ears now:

_“Do you mean to ruin my dress!? Unhand me!”_

There had been a slight giggle to her voice in the end though as she had kicked water into Dimitri’s face.

He wondered where she was now; whether she had been informed of her step-father’s death. She hadn’t attended the funeral.

He hoped she was okay.

“Oh! I know! How’s about some ice cream?” Rodrigue’s voice brought him back to the present, and made him turn once more. The man smiled down at him. “Perfect for a hot day, _and_ to cheer you up!”

“That would be nice,” Dimitri said, voice distant.

“Perfect! You boys stay right here, and don’t get into any trouble. I know there’s a vendor around here somewhere…” And Rodrigue turned, disappearing into the crowded markets once more.

Dimitri folded the handkerchief he’d been given back up into a neat square, and tucked it into the pocket of his breeches. Felix stood over him, arms still folded, glaring.

“He’s _my_ brother, you know,” he said suddenly. “Not yours. Do you see me weeping like a fool over your father?”

The words were a slap to the face, so sharp they stung. Dimitri could do nothing but blink in response as a cold filled him – a chilling, swirling sensation like the snowstorms in the Faerghan skies, putting a physical weight upon his chest. “Wh… What?” he could merely ask.

“Why are you so devastated? Glenn was _my_ brother. It should be _me_ mourning him, but you don’t see me crying in the street about it.”

Dimitri looked down at Felix’s face, so filled with venom, lip curled, and felt more tears rise.

What had happened? Where had Felix gone? Mere months ago it would have been Felix sitting and crying, tears and mucus cascading down his face as he ugly-cried over something or another. Now, he was… angry.

The loss of his brother had torn a hole in Felix Fraldarius’s heart that had been filled only by bitterness and vitriol. He had never had cause to mourn before, but now Dimitri saw the weight that Glenn's death had had upon him.

He was breaking, underneath that scowl.

Dimitri opened his mouth, preparing to apologise as Felix’s eyes burned hatred-filled holes into him, but a different voice cut him off.

“Your dad’s gone to buy you ice cream, huh?”

Dimitri and Felix’s heads both snapped around to where another boy sat upon the wall of the fountain, mere feet away. He scooted along the bricks until he sat next to the prince.

“What flavour?” the boy asked. “No, let me guess. Blondie, you’re more of a vanilla guy. Grumpy, I can imagine you liking blueberry or something. Something with a _tang.”_

“Remind me, _who_ are you again?” Felix’s venom was directed at the stranger now.

It was odd. Everything about the boy – mid-brown skin, near-black hair with an Almyran braid woven into one side, traditional noble Almyran attire – indicated he was native to this country. Despite that, his Fódlanese was perfect, almost colloquial, right down to the accent.

“Ah, nobody. You can call me Khalid,” he said casually.

“You don’t look like a nobody,” Dimitri said, cocking his head. “Your clothes look noble, like the Almyran Sheikhs or something.”

Khalid shrugged. “I guess you could say my family’s rich. But, tell me. What ice cream flavours _are_ you getting?” And he leaned closer to Dimitri. He smelled good, of the fragrant oils a vendor had been selling back in the market – perfumed, like flowers.

Yet as Dimitri looked into Khalid’s eyes, he found himself astounded. His irises were a lush green colour, as bright as Faerghan evergreens in the heat of summer – emerald flecked with gold. He almost felt he could get lost in them. “I… don’t know,” he responded, blinking a little. 

“What’s it to you anyway, _kid?”_ Felix hissed. “Leave us alone.”

“Kid?” Khalid laughed. “I’m probably older than you.”

Felix bristled in response. “Oh, yeah? How old are you, then?”

“Fourteen.”

“Pfft,” Felix scowled; Khalid was the same age as the two of them. “What month?”

“Blue Sea Moon. And you?”

Felix pressed his lips together. Being born in the Blue Sea Moon meant Khalid was older than Dimitri. Dimitri, of course, was older than Felix. “... Pegasus Moon.”

“What about you, Blondie?” Khalid asked.

“E-Ethereal Moon,” Dimitri muttered, fearing Felix’s wrath.

“Oh, so you’re the youngest of the lot, then,” Khalid sneered at Felix, receiving a sullen glare in response.

“Either way,” Dimitri shrugged, “we don’t know what flavours we’re getting. Felix’s dad just went to get us some.”

“Oh, so your name’s Felix?” Those green eyes fixed onto Felix, who shrugged irritably. He turned back to Dimitri. “What about you, then?”

“I’m… Dimitri,” the prince replied. Giving out his name to a stranger, however friendly, didn’t feel right.

But something registered upon Khalid’s face with his words: a flicker of shock – perhaps recognition. Could he have recognised Dimitri’s name as being the heir of Faerghus? Dimitri would never know, for his answer remained vague. “Oh, cool. Hey Dimitri. Hey Felix.”

“Whatever,” the sour-faced boy murmured.

“You’re not from around here, then,” Khalid began to swing his legs from where they dangled over the fountain’s wall. “Well, obviously, seeing as you’re speaking Fódlanese.”

“You’d be right.” Dimitri smiled as he spoke. This boy seemed nice: carefree, in a way. His verdant eyes looked up into the sky above them, squinting as the sun burned fiercely through the cloudless sheet of blue, at its midday peak in the sky. “We’re…” _Hm._ What did he want to say here? _Getting away from our home country to mourn our dead relatives?_ The thought made unease writhe in the pit of his stomach, threatening to send tears to his eyes again. “... on vacation.”

“Vacation?” Felix asked, with a face that said _‘really?’_

Khalid did not question it, however. “Yeah, Zibaaghar’s nice to take a quick break to. Where have you been sightseeing? The temple? Botanical gardens? The beach?”

Dimitri shrugged and gave Khalid a smile: they were all good suggestions. “None of those places yet,” he said. “We’ve only just arrived here, really.”

“You haven’t been to the beach!?” the boy exclaimed. He leapt down from the wall and grasped Felix by the shoulders. “You poor, sad things! You _have_ to go!”

“We do _not!”_ Felix snapped at him, wrenching free of his grasp. “Who are _you_ to be telling us what to do!?”

“Felix,” Dimitri said gently, sliding down from the wall to join the others.

“No! I can’t believe you’re happy to just talk to this stranger! And to take orders from him!” Felix’s pale cheeks glowed pink, distress deep in his eyes. He had not been coping well since the Tragedy. He was trying his best to hide it, and had crafted a front of irritability and bitterness to project his woes from behind. In his eyes, though, visible in his wavering eyebrows, he was hurt.

“He’s not giving us orders,” Dimitri tried to explain. “He just wants us to have a good time.”

Felix merely looked at him, shaking his head, before large, scarred hands clasped his shoulders. He jumped a mile, and each boy looked up to see the familiar form of Rodrigue grinning behind him. “You’ll never guess what!” he exclaimed.

“Wh-what?” asked Felix uneasily.

“The _King_ is in town!"

 _King._ Dimitri’s heart leapt to his throat, mind immediately fogging over with a shroud of mist, unable to think of anything else.

Dimitri’s father was the King.

But Dimitri’s father was dead.

"He’s holding a speech outside the temple in twenty minutes!" Rodrigue continued. "Well, that’s what the folks in the market are saying, anyway--”

“Weren’t you meant to be getting us ice cream?” Felix asked.

“Almyra’s King is giving a speech, Felix! We can't miss that!"

_Almyra’s King._

Of course. The familiar dull ache returned to Dimitri’s chest at once. He still felt dazed, as if he'd been hit across the back of the head with the flat of an axe. The King in question was not Lambert, but some Almyran monarch instead. He sighed.

“You can bring your new friend with you, if you’d like!” Rodrigue nodded to Khalid.

The Almyran boy took a step backwards, face uncomfortable. “No, I’ve heard quite enough from the King already, thanks.”

“Oh, well--”

“Khalid was going to take us to the beach,” Dimitri said, voice hollow. The beach – the place of warmth and happiness. In a way he wanted to see whether or not the sun truly could thaw out his heart.

Rodrigue’s face lit up. “You’ve managed to convince my son to go to the beach?” he asked Khalid.

“He has _not!”_ Felix fumed.

“It’s either come to the beach with us, or listen to the Almyran King’s speech,” Dimitri said.

Felix looked at him, then to Khalid, then to the beaming face of his father. “... Fine,” he muttered, stepping closer to his friend.

“Perfect!” chirped his father. “Well, boys, meet me back at this fountain in two hours! Don’t get them lost, Khalid!”

“I won’t,” Khalid promised, watching with a sort of glee as Rodrigue disappeared into the bustling marketplace again. “Your father’s nice enough,” he told Felix, setting off at a walk and guiding them in the opposite direction.

“He’s pathetic,” snapped Felix. “A bumbling excuse of a father.”

His negativity irked Dimitri just a little. “He’s just trying to be brave for us. Distract us. He lost a lot too, you know.”

“Oh trust me, _I_ know,” Felix growled back.

“You two having a domestic?” asked Khalid, pushing his way between Dimitri and Felix and clapping them both on the back. “C’mon, the beach will make you feel better!”

 _It had better,_ Dimitri wanted to mutter.

Leaving the city square, Khalid led them down a side street. It was dark, the thick sea or air within hitting Dimitri’s face in hot waves, threatening to choke him.

It served as a reminder of just how different this country was from anything in Fódlan; the paths were paved with pale bricks, a permanent layer of dust sitting atop them just as powdery snow did in Faerghus during the winters. The road ahead of them was packed earth, lined with marks from wheels of all shapes and sizes. Down it, people rode atop exotic animals the likes of which Dimitri and Felix had never seen, their garb colourful and bright. Gold, yellow, and green fabrics could be seen all around, especially from those sitting nobly atop palanquins.

“What’s your father like, then?” Felix grumbled to Khalid, eyes fixed upon his shoes. “Since you think mine’s so nice.”

Khalid merely shook his head, curls bouncing. “I don’t have much to say about mine.”

Dimitri felt something tug in his chest at that. Could Khalid have been through something similar to him? Taking a glance at his face, his green eyes remained bright – vibrant and inquisitive – although something tight in his lips gave him an almost secretive air. Whatever it was, he evidently did not want to talk about it.

Looking both ways down the bustling road, Khalid grabbed the hands of each boy – surprising Dimitri and making Felix cry out in irritation – and dashed across it. They reached the other side unscathed.

At once, Khalid hopped over the short brick wall they’d found themselves in front of, making the action look as swift and easy as stepping over a puddle. Dimitri could only clamber up it ungracefully, almost falling over it, while Felix scaled the structure skillfully. As they landed upon the other side, their shoes sank into the soft, unyielding ground below, and made Dimitri and Felix yelp, backpedalling. The floor beneath them looked like a pile of fine grains, swallowing their feet and making the prince panic audibly until he fell to his backside.

Khalid was laughing raucously. “It’s sand, you fools! Have you never felt sand before!?”

Felix had steadied himself, knees bent and holding his arms out for balance. He was up to his ankles in sand. “No,” he said dangerously, amber eyes locked onto Khalid’s own. “We haven’t.”

“You might wanna take off those boots,” Khalid offered, holding out a hand to help Dimitri to his feet. “You’ll do better in the sand without them.”

Looking down at the other boy’s feet, Dimitri found them sockless and clad in beautiful brown leather sandals, golden embroidery stitched into the straps. They looked much more comfortable than the suffocating riding boots he and Felix wore. Evidently, Rodrigue had not been prepared for the clothing customs of this other country.

“Well?” Khalid asked once the Faerghan boys had removed their boots and socks. “What do you think?”

And for the first time, Dimitri looked out at their surroundings. His jaw slacked; miles of sand stretched out at either side of them, endless, glinting pink and white beneath the sun. It was the sight in front of them, however, that truly took his breath away.

He faced the ocean. Of course he did – he was at the beach – but its beauty was like nothing he could ever have anticipated. The waters were not the dull grey of Fhirdiad’s rivers, nor the clear white of the fountain streams; this ocean was the colour Dimitri would imagine the scales of merpeople to be – a fantastic half-blue half-green, its foam a crystalline white. It looked as pristine as unpolished aquamarine, greens and blues swirling together to create an incredible turquoise, topped with a milky white haze as the waves crashed together.

Even Felix was fixated on the sight, pupils wide and round like a kitten entranced by a new toy. 

“Are you glad we came…?” Dimitri whispered to him as Khalid began to walk.

Felix blinked and his brow furrowed slowly. “No.” But his tone was not lined with anger – only fascination. 

Dimitri smiled; he would take that as a yes.

They followed the Almyran boy towards the sea, the sand soft and silky beneath their feet. Its surface was hot – almost painfully so – but once their weight let them sink into it, the temperature was cool and soothing beneath. Even the winds were more chilly out here; in the city centre, surrounded by other people, the air was damp and thick, but the sea breeze was refreshing. It was incredible.

The sounds of the ocean became audible as they neared the waves, a slow crashing sound layered by soft lapping. Khalid only stopped walking once his toes touched the water, letting the ocean lick at his ankles.

“Do you like it?” He turned around and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, raising his voice over the ocean’s roars.

“It’s… amazing,” Dimitri said back, looking out as far into the distance as he could, to the horizon where the green sea met the azure sky.

Far away, the waters looked rough, but up close the tides played carefully, merely kissing Khalid’s calves. Dimitri held onto his shoes with one hand and pulled up his trousers to his knees. He stepped forwards into the shallows and felt with shock that the water was the same temperature as the air, comfortably warm.

“Felix!” he breathed. “The ocean’s so warm!”

Felix kept his distance. “I’m not going anywhere near it, thank you very much.”

“Your friend’s a real spoil sport, huh,” Khalid remarked.

“He doesn’t like the beach much,” Dimitri told him.

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was still true, though. Granted, he didn’t think Felix would ever be comfortable changing into swimming clothes and taking a plunge, but a simple stroll down the beach was a different story entirely. 

“It’s nice,” Dimitri called out to Felix.

The boy looked back at him, golden eyes squinting, and nodded slightly. “I can admit that much."

“Say,” said Khalid. “There’s an ice cream vendor over there, you know.” And he pointed back down the beach, at where a wooden hut stood against the wall.

“I’m game, after my father so kindly abandoned his quest for some,” Felix agreed.

For a moment, so enraptured by the beach’s beauty, Dimitri almost forgot why he was here.

The memory swam back to him lazily, that he was here to take a break from mourning, but the fact didn’t hurt as much as it did before.

Dimitri looked up into the sky, and saw a single cloud. It looked fluffy – a little ragged around the edges – and reminded the prince so much of his father’s old cloak with the white fur collar. Yet instead of feeling burdened by the presence of the cloud, Dimitri felt comforted. Almost… watched. As if his father was up there, side by side with the Goddess, keeping a contented eye upon the boys’ adventures.

For the first time since the Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri felt comforted by the memory of the King.

“I’d love to grab an ice cream,” he said, and he felt himself give Khalid the most genuine smile he had mustered in weeks.


End file.
